#he’s about to blow everyone away with that crisp c sharp

[eastvillages]

rabid choir boys. what will they do

[cdroloisms]

so... the red banquet, huh?

im not going to lie, i was cheering on the eggpire the entire time (/lh) - what can i say, something abt the demon possessed resident evil crew just speaks to my heart. theyre FUN, ok? 

anyway, a lot of people were theorizing abt what c!dream showing up at the banquet could look like - and, well, i thought i’d write my version of it. this takes place in the “guard dog au” developed primarily by a gc im in on twitter (@stabbysideblog being the main originator of it, do check sunny out !!) - the basic premise is post-getting the revive book from c!dream, c!quackity continues to get his, uh, “use” out of him by basically treating him as a bodyguard/guard dog as he goes around the server - which should probably give you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go :] 

tws: death, grief, implied torture, starvation, abuse, blood, murder, unhealthy relationship, dehumanization, possession, trauma, mental illness, violence, dark content, dark imagery, emotional distress, mental instability, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (not really, but a very dark portrayal of him) 

A strangled sob claws its way up Puffy’s throat as she watches Foolish fall.

He drops in a spray of golden ichor in the crimson, brilliant green eyes trained on hers, jaw slack in horror, pain, dipping to the ground and whiting out before he’s even fully collapsed. The others’ screams hardly even meet her ears; all she can see is her son, falling, her son, dying, her son, that same sunlit kindness still held in the curve of his lips in this room that knows nothing but pain and betrayal, gone gone gone gone-

Because of her.

Ant’s still staring at her, pupils thinned to needles from the brightness of the lava at their backs, ears alert but stance entirely calm as he twirls his sword, still dripping gold. His mouth is moving but she cannot hear anything above the ring ring ringing in her ears, the world swirling and blurring dangerously from the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, Ant’s eyes polished rubies where there had once been a cloudless sky. Bad gestures at the crowd, pushed back towards the lava’s fire in their fear, leaving her to stand in the middle of the room as one desperate dying scream, the egg, standing as a silent witness to it all-

“Bad-” a flash of blue, and there’s someone standing in front of her, shoulders pulled back, a diamond sword glittering their right hand, “Stop it.”

“Quackity.”’

Bad snarls, tail whipping back and forth; Puffy takes a step back, then another, shoulders still shaking in grief for her son, for her friends, for everyone who’s about to lose their lives in this twisted realm of crimson and hellfire. There is no fear on Quackity’s face though he stands unarmored, and for the first time in this awful day something like worry flashes over Bad’s face. There’s history here, she realizes - what did Bad say about Quackity attacking? - but none of this is making sense, not the self-assured way Quackity is carrying himself, wings relaxed and folded at his back, not the simmering unease making itself known in the foreign cadence of Bad’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done,” Quackity says, voice almost patronizing, like a parent stumbling in on the mess their child has made out of their bedroom, “this is impressive, I’m not going to lie, this is quite impressive.” Puffy swallows thickly, hears the shuddering gasp of someone behind her - Fundy, probably, or Sam - as Quackity’s voice drops. “You have to stop right now.”

“Stop?”

“This whole Egg thing is just getting out of control - you just killed a man,” Quackity stalks across the netherbrick floor like he has all the time in the world, ignoring the crossbows that the Eggpire has trained on his back, guarded only by the off-white shirt he’s wearing, an untied tie hanging limply around his neck. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth - my son, they killed my son, she means to say, but the words stick to the walls of her throat and only escape her lungs in another series of wracking sobs. “Is that what you wanted to do, Bad?”

He laughs - laughs, of all things, and there is something here that Puffy is missing, that isn’t clicking through the muddied fog of grief hanging grey and suffocating around her head, but Quackity is speaking again and she can’t think about it all, not now, “-and I’m not gonna have it anymore, Bad.”

He slips over by the crowd, eyes glancing all of them huddled in one fearful mob over the tables, eyes dark and daring and cold; the Eggpire keeps their eyes trained on him, Bad’s eyebrows furrowed, Ant’s muzzle twisted in a snarl. Puffy watches, their words passing over her like water skidding against the surface of a rock splitting a stream in two, heart thudding in her ears, marking out the heartsick beats in this poisoned melody - one-two, her-son, her-son, her-son-

He stops in front of her in the middle of monologuing, eyes trained on her own like he’s trying to tell her something. His eyes flick down and she follows their gaze to his other hand, the one not clasped around a sword handle, watches as he gestures vaguely in the direction of the Eggpire. She frowns, confusion cutting through the grief - what is he trying to say? - and Quackity sighs, index finger slashing in the air in the shape of what might be an A as he spins on his heel to walk back towards Bad and the others.

“So how about we just stop playing?”

Quackity smiles, teeth white and glittering from the lava’s glow even as the Eggpire surrounds him, pushes him back against the wall. Bad seems to hesitate, hand clasped around the trigger of a crossbow he keeps pointed at the other’s head; when he speaks, he almost sounds mournful.

“I can’t,” he mutters, quiet, stepping forwards as his shoulders straighten, pushing Quackity back in a motion that the others are quick to follow. Puffy watches, an awful sinking feeling falling through the hole left in her chest by the sight of her son, falling, her son, dead - watches as Quackity’s wings open, shine golden in the lava’s light - what is he planning?

“You know why I can’t stop.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh through his lungs, “Bad- you and all your buddies here, drop your weapons, and leave. Let all of these people go.”

“Or what?” Ant’s voice is sharp, but Quackity barely pays him a second thought, swinging a glare at his head and cutting him off.

“I’m not talking to you,” he laughs, dismissive, “I’m talking to Bad.”

“No-” Puffy watches as Bad’s hand tightens on his crossbow, punctuating the word with a step forward. “You put your weapon down. If you wanted to stop us?” He’s too close to Quackity for Puffy to make out either of their faces, crossbow bolt aimed and ready to send straight through his skull. She stiffens, sees from the corner of her eye as the ones beside her look away, and resigns herself to the inevitable spray of blood on brick - not again not again don’t make me watch again - “You should’ve brought more than just yourself.”

Quackity laughs.

“I did,” his voice is dangerous in its levity, making Bad, then the rest of the Eggpire step back as his wings spread open further, watching with bated breath and wide eyes as a swarm of white descends from a hidden hole in the wall, “Or, well, I did the next best thing. I brought my worst enemy.”

“What?”

“Alright Quackity, where’s this Egg thing?”

Technoblade jumps down into the room in a familiar purple-black blur of expertly enchanted netherite armor, form impeccable despite the seeming exhaustion in his voice. At his feet, a pack of wolves gather, pace, muscles coiled and clearly ready to strike; he rolls his shoulders back, signature fireworks loaded into his crossbow, and the crowd behind Puffy immediately breaks into shocked murmuring and soft cheers.

On Quackity’s other side, someone else flips into the room, wearing a suit of all things, crisp and well-pressed; Purpled grins, entirely too gleeful as the Eggpire presses back further, held off by the dogs swarming and growling at their feet.

“Purpled- we hired you!”

“To be frank with you, Bad, a sword appears in Purpled’s hand and he flips it casually, blade thin and gleaming, “Quackity just had the better price.”

“We- we still outnumber you!” Bad’s voice is a near-scream in its desperation, his tail lashing back and forth as he shifts his weight forward, “It’s four against three- we’ll still win-” Despite herself, Puffy’s mind spins; either way, they’re still at a disadvantage from sheer numbers alone, never mind Quackity’s lack of armor. Maybe if they all work together, they’ll be able to sufficiently stop them, but there’s no way she can see this ending in anything less than a bloodbath-

“I didn’t want for it to come to this, Bad,” Quackity’s voice drops low and sweet, the sincerity in his tone belied by his glittering eyes and jagged grin. The shift in tone sends a shiver down her back, has even his allies shifting uncomfortably in what seems to be confusion - Puffy catches something like a murmured no from Sam, behind her, before Quackity whistles, loud.

It all happens too fast for her to follow; one moment, the Eggpire is standing, weapons raised and ready to fight; the next, and there is a new netherite-clad figure in the middle of the room, signature sparks of purple from a pearl still glittering around them, axe buried into Antfrost’s chest. The room devolves into shrieks as his body dissolves, Bad gasping sharply and something dark bubbling in Puffy’s chest - good - as the newcomer in the room moves over to Ponk, bloodstained axe swinging in a downward arc, only barely stopped in time by a diamond sword catching on the crook of the blade.

“Go!” Quackity’s voice rings out above the chaos, and Techno and Purpled - seemingly shaken from their shock - fly into motion, fireworks bursting in flashes of red and black that send Puffy blinking out stars from her eyes, Purpled moving to match blows against Hannah and Techno’s army biting at the ankles of the Eggpire leader. Around her, people scream in relief, cheering as the Eggpire, clad in eggshell-blue, are pushed back one by one, hindered by a shifting wave of teeth and claws and clashing blades and netherite moving smoothly over the uneven floor - Bad screams, “RETREAT!”, and they disappear into the wall.

Purpled curses; “I’m going after them.” Puffy watches, still reeling, as he dives into the corridor that Bad had revealed, a flash of purple and blue melting into the shadows; the mystery figure - still hauling a heavy, bloodstained axe, nearly dragging against the floor - moves forward as to follow.

Quackity snaps his fingers, and the figure stops, turns, immediately moving to the winged man’s side. Behind her, Puffy can make out cheers, gasping, hysterical sounds of relief; she can’t join them, feels nothing but the shuddering weight of her grief pressing further on her lungs as the adrenaline fades, head dizzy with Foolish’ sharp gasp in pain, Ant’s yowl of agony. Her eyes flick to the side, catch on Sam pacing, muttering under his breath; when his eyes meet hers, they widen in something like - alarm?

She shakes her head; she can’t think about all of that, right now. Her hooves stumble over the vines and rot strewn over the floor, carrying her forward to the glitter of gold on red, to where her son had fallen and she could do no more but watch with a scream caught between her teeth.

A hand lands on her shoulder- “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time.”

She whirls around; Quackity’s looking down at her, face twisted in sympathy. Behind him, the armored stranger looms, hair long and tangled, helmet keeping their face in shadow and hiding their features from view. There’s something distantly familiar to them, in the way they shift from one foot to the other, something that makes her eyes narrow and throat tighten-

“Who are you?” The words tumble from her mouth, making Quackity freeze, jaw snapping shut, the figure behind him tensing almost imperceptibly under their armor. “Who-”

Quackity’s eyes are dark, piercing; she can’t read them, the flat line of his mouth as confusing as it is frustrating. His eyes flick up to somewhere over her shoulder before moving back to her own

“How rude of me,” He smiles, gold tooth glinting, “I didn’t even introduce our special guest.”

His right wing presses against their back, and they drop, immediately, to their knees, making her step back in shock. Quackity’s hand slips easily under the edge of their helmet, ripping it off with little care and letting their hair fall in a wave of dusty browns over their face; he pulls the strands back roughly, revealing the paleness to their skin, the hollows in their cheeks-

“Dream?”

Her breath shudders in her chest, eyes snapping up to Quackity, still smiling, hand still pressed against the back of his skull. Dream’s face is pale, thin, clawed with new scars that highlight the jut of his cheekbones and the dullness of his eyes. He looks up at her, eyes glassy, skin almost grey, and for a moment she’s looking at Foolish, eyes unseeing in death, the luster of his skin stolen like the air from his lungs, and she nearly screams.

“Puffy, Puffy,” Quackity murmurs, almost kind, “It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine now.”

“He- he’s supposed to be in prison,” she hisses, not missing how he flinches, not missing how even that is hindered by the hand braced against his head. He looks strangely small kneeling at Quackity’s side, dwarfed by the netherite he’s wearing; even with an axe strapped to his back, the blade still wet with crimson and reeking of iron and decay, he hardly looks like the villain that had terrorized the server, the son she could no longer recognize in the midst of the bridges he burned.

“Oh- don’t worry about him,” Quackity shrugs, wings fluttering, “It’s all being done with the Warden’s permission, Puffy, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, his hand tightens on the other’s hair, tugging his head back by the roots; Dream hardly even reacts, simply letting himself be manhandled, throat bare and exposed to the air, similarly criss-crossed by scars. “He’s perfectly well-behaved now, you see?”

Her throat closes, the pit in her gut torn open by the sight of her son with a blade skewered through his heart only growing wider, hungrier, by the dullness in the eyes of the other. Foolish’ death had happened too fast for her to react: one moment, he was staring at her, eyes mournful in goodbye; the next, he was a tumble of gold and green and blue against the floor, half of his name still not having left her lips. Dream’s head swivels to hers, face entirely blank; there is nothing quick written in the gauntness of his face, more scar tissue than skin, in the shadows under his eyes or how they seem to stare, unseeing, in the long, knotted strands of hair twisted over Quackity’s knuckles. He looks like he’s been dying, slowly, for months, and the screaming cry of YOU FAILED ringing in her head in Ant’s voice only grows louder.

“What did you-” the words scrape roughly against the inside of her mouth, “What did you do?”

Quackity shrugs, letting go, and Dream’s head tips forward to stare at the floor. “What had to be done.”

He clicks his fingers again, and Dream stands, falling behind Quackity with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Quackity hands him back his helmet, keeping his hand stretched out, palm up, even after Dream takes the netherite and fastens it back over his head. Puffy watches, heart stuck in her throat, as Dream fiddles with something by his throat, pulls out a thick coil of iron chains, pressing the end to Quackity’s outstretched hand - the other side, she realizes, fastened around his neck.

Her breath stutters when he looks back at Quackity, gut roiling at the familiarity - it’s an imperfect copy of the way he used to look at her, a skittish shadow at her tail, all awkward smiles and fidgeting hands. Only now, his eyes don’t dance with the same light, his lungs shivering in fear instead of wheezing laughter; she watches as his head follows Quackity like he’s the only person in the room, a duckling imprinted on the nearest person and ready to follow to the ends of the world and further, and her heart shatters all over again.

“Anyway,” Quackity’s eyes soften, lips curled in sympathy, “My condolences, Puffy, for your son. It really is a tragedy.”

She watches him leave with tears in her eyes, a sob once again caught in her throat. The images overlap - Foolish, smiling under the sun’s glow, sitting on the roof of his summer home - Dream, grinning in the treetops, eyes as green as the leaves surrounding him - Foolish, falling in a spray of ichor and a gasp of pain, Dream, grey-eyed and silent, dead as the crimson rot surrounding his beaten body-

My condolences for your son, Quackity’s words echo in her skull, and not for the first time, she laughs miserably, tears falling from her eyes.

Which one?

[creaturedom]

Dinner Rush

Listen, listen, I’ve had these OCs and this idea in my head for a while, now y’all gotta deal with them. Forgive me for the length I just got real excited about it 🧡

————————————————————-

It was a warm evening, the streets packed with cars glistening under street lamps and people wandering about with friends, all with wide eyes and rolling laughter. Now that summer had rolled along this beach town was filled with tourists, all eager to get away from their mundane cities and live life to the fullest. Which, in Beto’s case, meant it was a full house at the restaurant.

Beto was a slender man with short, curly brown hair with some lighter brown highlights to it, while along his jawline he kept a nicely maintained scruff of hair against tanned skin. His eyes were a darker brown, but they seemed to have a certain glint of color whenever exposed to the light. He was never one to openly complain or make a fuss out of things, and overall most liked him for his calm demeanor and almost lazy smile. Always quick to fulfill everyone’s needs and eager to ensure things went smoothly, lest his manager Valencia catch wind of a table meltdown or employee scuffle. Normally he would have been left to greet customers and show them to their tables, but he found himself blinking in surprise as Valencia shoo’d him from the front counter.

“Gina just jumped ship, I need you to serve up top tonight.”

“What..?” He put aside the menus he was holding, but before he could ask more the manager waved her hands dismissively.

“Bitch said something about her gerbil, ran off crying like usual, don’t have time to be pissed about it! Can I count on you? Please, I can’t afford to lose anyone else tonight.” He scanned the worried look on the woman’s face and gave his usual lazy smile, rolling up his sleeves as he spoke.

“I won’t let you down, Val.” This calmed her down enough to smile at least before she shoved a notebook and pen into his hands and shoo’d him along. “Keep service quick, we’ve already got a big party seated up there so good luck!” And with that he gave her a polite wave and made his way upstairs.

Much to his delight, the top floor was already brightly lit by the hanging lights around the parameter. Each season the restaurant took great strides in giving the rooftop a different theme, complete with heaters in case it got too cold, and nice decor to give things a splash of color. This season, he found himself staring in awe at large flower arrangements, filled with things like Chrysanthemums and Sweet Peas, as well as others that he couldn’t recall seeing before. Their petals shook with a gentle breeze, and he found himself closing his eyes with a soft sniff to take in the aroma around him. Simply gorgeous... But, he had a job to do, and he could already see the large table waving him down. With a smile he strode over, the smell of the flowers hitting him much better now that he was closer.

“Buenas noches, and welcome to La Fuente! I’ll be your server tonight, you can call me Beto. Is there anything I can get you guys started with..?” He looked over the eager faces with his usual smile and began writing down each drink order. As he listened though he found himself sniffling lightly, a curious tickle appearing in his nose. He wiggled it a bit in hopes it would pass, but it was steadily becoming a prickle, and a distracting one at that. “Ah, pardon, what was that..?” He asked with a scrubbing of his nose.

“Are the sangrias any good?” He glanced over to a man sitting at the end of the table, short red hair cropped and styled into a neat fohawk and thick eyebrows raised slightly to punctuate the question. He couldn’t help but notice the deep blue in his eyes and the more square jaw, he was quite handsome. Beto smiled back despite another sniffle and nodded “Y—Yes, the kitchen just got a new wine and it’s to die for, fresh pears, some grapes, crih... Crisp...” With no more warning than a finger raised he hid his face behind the long notebook and dipped back with a loud “ghhTSHhh!”

Quick to recover he popped back up with a soft laugh and smile, waving the notebook in front of his face “‘Scuse me! Crisp pink lady apples, I just saw them come in today.” The man seemed to be interested, but he lingered a moment before nodding and popping up the menu again.

“Yeah, sounds good, I’ll take that. And bless...” Beto beamed at this and dipped his head respectfully “Thank you, and I’m sure you’re gonna love it! Now, anyone decide on appetizers, or entrees? We have a few new specials..” Beto swung himself back into the usual routine pretty cleanly in his opinion, but the tickle wasn’t going away just yet. He would start listing off some ingredients or answering a question and in between his breath would start hitching lightly while a glazed look in his eye set in. Worst still he couldn’t help feeling self conscious, a couple of them were exchanging looks, but none were really staring like the man across the table. Not that he could blame him, but he couldn’t really control it, and eventually he dipped behind a menu like he’d done before “H-Hih-! Gtschhhh! Hih’ktsschxx! Hihh..... S-So sorrhITSCHHH!” A few people at the table winced sympathetically and offered a few blessings, but he didn’t have the heart to look them in the eye. An embarrassed blush was appearing on his cheeks, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was overwhelming him. “I-I’ll get right on this, I’m so sorry.”

He rushed downstairs and placed the ticket on the counter, scrambling into the kitchen despite some confused squawking from coworkers. He ripped a few paper towels off and rushed into a corner near the oven, body shuttering with a sharp gasp as he buried his face deep into the rough material “Huh’Resshh! Hah—Esshhh- kshh!”

“Hey, hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The sous-chef grabbed him by the collar to tell him off, but his face only buried deeper into the paper towels, tears starting to spill from now red rimmed eyes “Huh’tschhhh! Hah-! Esshhhh! Heh’tschhhh!”

Some of the line chefs paused to check out the display before them, all murmuring something about what was going on and some questioning if he was alright. But the man holding him was scowling, and called overhead “Val, get his ass out of the kitchen!”

“What?” The manager stormed in just in time to see two more sneezes rip through Beto, wincing a bit when he finally raised his face enough to show how flushed it was “What the fuck- did you come to work sick? What’s wrong with you, you said you could handle things!”

His mouth gapped, but he lost this battle before it could even begin “I-I—I’b dot—gUH’TSCHHhhh!!” Just barely he shoved his face into the paper towels, and the sous-chef was quick to shove the waiter in her direction. Valencia was less than pleased, but she at least took him by the shoulders and guided him to the employee restroom, shouting over his sneezing to get back to work.

Once inside she waited for him to let out one more sneeze before taking his face in her hands, feeling against his cheeks, forehead, and neck “Okay, no fever, not clammy yet... Your eyes are looking a little puffy though, ugh. Why the fuck didn’t you call in sick?” In all honesty, it broke his heart she would even ask that. He had felt just fine beforehand, she saw he was fine! Holding up a finger to pause this conversation he looked away to blow his nose, wincing as the paper scraped against the sides of his reddened nostrils and a pressure built under his eyes.

“M’not sick,” he insisted “I was doing fine and then all of a s-suhhh... Sudden my nose started to t-tihhih— tickle...”

“Then are you getting sick, do I need to send you home?” Her words were sharp, but there was a clear worry in her eyes as she looked over him. These two had been working together for years, she knew this wasn’t like him “What set you off?”

“I... I don’t know...” Beto admitted, deflating with a light sniffle “Please, whatever it is, don’t send me home yet. I can finish at least a c—couple-” he raised the paper towels once more, but when nothing came he let out a shaken sigh “Just a few more tables... Please, it’s packed tonight. I can’t strand you with this.”

He could see it on her face. A genuine flash of worry, anger, and consideration. So much was going through Valencia’s mind, and the most he could do was look to her pleadingly. When she finally spoke again it was with a heavy sigh and a pointed finger pressed against his chest “You get a few more tables. I’ll help out up top where I can, but if you can’t get this under control I’m sending you straight home. If for a second you feel about ready to drop, you tell me and head right home. Understood?”

His face managed to light up, and with a nod in agreement to her, she merely patted his shoulder and walked out. Alright, if he was gonna stay, he needed to get cleaned up first.

————————————————————-

At first things were looking up. After a quick wash of his face and another nose blow he was back to serve his previous tables and greet new customers. At the table where it all began, a few of the guests asked if he was feeling alright, to which he assured it was only a mild tickle and apologized. But, there was two things he couldn’t shake.

The first was a low buzzing sensation in the back of his sinuses. He managed to get it together in the bathroom and even stave off the tickle, but the longer he was up here the more he was feeling it build. And the other, was the gaze of the blue eyed guest. Every now and again while serving drinks and bringing food they would happen to catch a glimpse of one another, always when Beto least expected it.

When he rubbed his nose, when he was sniffling under the cover of chatter, there was the man’s eyes again. They didn’t feel judgemental by any means, but there was something there as they would both glance away rather quickly. What a mess he must have looked...

“Excuse me, sir?” Beto’s attention snapped back to said table and, much to his dread, it was the blue eyed man again. Beto’s cheeks carried a light blush as it caught him off guard, but he quickly shook it off to be near him with the usual lazy smile.

“Yes, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Maybe, but um, seems a little silly.” The waiter tilted his head at this but merely grinned, internally cursing as he felt the tickle slowly build further “N... Nonsense sir, your comfort is our priority. Another drink maybe, some sides..?”

“No, no, I.. I was curious about these.” The pale man reached over to one of the smaller flower arrangements on the table, holding it up to the other “Any idea what these are called?”

“Oh! They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they? Let’s see, ah... Chrysanthemums, a little Sweet Pea, which I always think would look like actual peas, but they’re just pretty flowers?” Beto chuckled at this and pointed to a few others “For sure sunflowhh... S-Sunflowers, but I don’t...” Oh no, not again. He tried to sniff sharply, but the fragrance of the flowers only seemed to make it worse. The customer, on the other hand, filled in the blank.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out these ones,” he pointed to a few more vibrant flowers, a deep burgandy and orange “At first I thought they were Zinnias, but the way the petals fall they’re so much closer... They’re all over the place, but I can’t say I’ve seen them before.” As he man looked back to his waiter he blinked calmly, watching as Beto hid the lower half of his face behind his notebook and watery eyes screwed shut.

“Th—They’re gorgeous, but I c-can’t... Can’t-!” With a sharp gasp he bent to the side, trying desperately to stifle “HIH’TXxxx! G’htsxx! H-Hih... Hah-! Huuh’tschhhh!” He tried to look back to the man to apologize, but the oberwhelming smell and sharp tickle threw off all concentration, and he was helpless to do more than double over again, catching his face in the crook of his elbow as two sudden, wet sneezes burst from him “Hih’pTSCHHhh! E’TSCHhh..!”

The sneezes left his ears ringing, he could hardly hear the sympathetic blessings offered from the table over the crowd’s usual chatter. Unsure what else to do he simple rushed off from the table, going to the closest restroom he could to ride out the fit.

The first sneeze struck just as he opened the door, then again half way in, and ended with him desperately clinging to a sink as they continued to tumble through his system. His eyes stung, he could hardly catch his breath between harsh sneezes, but worst of all, he knew deep down this was it. He had to admit something was wrong, and his manager would find out any minute. As he blindly reached for paper towels to wipe the mess now dripping from his nostrils, the door swung open with a slight squeak. Oh, wonderful.

But there was no disgusted noise, at least not that he noticed as he gave a gurgling blow into the rough paper. Instead, he was met with a firm hand on his shoulder, and what sounded like a rattling bottle.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore.” Confused, Beto wiped his eyes, seeing before him a clear bottle filled with long white pills. Blinking softly he looked up, far too drained to do more than stare in a daze at the one who offered them. The man with the red fohawk and bright blue eyes. Only this time, they were much softer, full of a sympathy he never would have expected from a stranger “I promised my sister I wouldn’t say anything, but you’re really dying out there. I was hoping you’d give up and take a break, but... Now I just figure you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Wha..?” Beto took the pills from the man and scrubbed his eyes to get a better look at them. Off-brand antihistamines. At first he opened his mouth to question it, but as realization struck, it closed again. Though the man merely smirked, a bit playfully, and continued.

“Allergies, Einstein. From the look of it, bad ones at that...”

“I... I don’t understand, I‘ve never hahh... Ngh, had allergies..”

“Actually,” he corrected “you just didn’t know you did. It’s cool man, I’ve got some bad allergies myself, so I assumed you just didn’t want to admit to it. But turns out you’re just dealing with a flower you haven’t had the pleasure of smelling yet...” As if out is sympathy the man scratched the side of his own nose, sniffing a bit with a chuckle.

“I doped myself up long before I got here, but I don’t mind sharing with a guy in need...” There was a certain relief to hearing the other say that. If it was allergies it could be cured, the endless sneezing could stop. Not hesitating a moment he took out a couple pills out and downed them, using the sink to get some water and grimacing at the taste. After, he turned to the man with a relieved sigh and handed him back the bottle.

“Sir, I can’t thank you enough. Can I get you a free drink, maybe your meal on the house? I feel awful f-for hhh... How I’ve been all night..” The man smiled at Beto and shook his head, pocketing the precious pills in his jacket. “No way, I just wanted to help a good guy out. And you’ve been holding up great all evening, it was just my dumbass that pushed you over the edge.”

The two of them laughed at this, though Beto’s was a bit hoarse at this point. As things settled though the man paused, putting a hand on his shoulder again “Though... I wouldn’t complain if I maybe got one thing...” His attention caught, Beto straightened up a bit.

“And... What would that be, sir?”

“... Your number, maybe?” There was a long silence that hung in the room. At first the other man felt it was due to it being a ridiculous request, but as he saw Beto’s already red face grow redder, he knew it just needed a moment to process.

“... W... We can... Trade...” Oh god, was that stupid? It felt a little stupid as Beto watched the man snort out a laugh, but when he took the notbook from his hands and started writing, suddenly everything shifted. The two of them wrote on the same piece of paper, Beto being careful to rip off his number and hand it over to the kind man.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around then, Beto..” The waiter’s knees felt weak as the man smiled, god he smiled with his eyes, they just lit up the whole room in such a quick moment.

“W—Wait, what’s your name?” He called right as the man reached the door, another pause before he came back with that smile. He wasn’t taller than Beto, but in this moment the waiter felt like they were on the same level as his heart skipped a beat.

“Lucas Beckett. Everyone calls me Lu though.”

“... B... Beto Perez...” The two of them stood there grinning for a while, and when satifsied Lu nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, already turning for the door “I’ll see you around, Beto. Let me know when your schedule is free, alright?”

“Sure thing..” And just like that the handsome man was gone. He needed a bit to blow his nose and wipe up his face, but there was a new excitement in his body that he couldn’t describe. Mr. Lucas Beckett... Beto’s mind was swimming with ideas about him, and for a moment he wondered if it really happened, if the man was truly thinking of him like that.

“Hih’tSCHHhhhh!”

Apparently so.

[gibmb]

Heir To The Horde ch 7

“Ugh! Why do we have to take these things to Entrapta’s place!? We could easily walk there. Ever since Entrapta showed everyone these H.A.C. things or whatever it’s practically been the only way the princesses travel. Seriously! They’re almost everywhere we go!” Catra complains, “Hey! Are you even listening to me!?” This snaps Scorpia out of her trance, still holding her basket of gifts,

“What? Oh! Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just can’t get over how cute these sweaters are! I knit them myself, I was even able to make a blanket for each twin! It took months to finish, especially with these!” She gestures with her claws. Catra pouts while looking out the window,

“Yeah I know! I was there for most of it! I even had to cheer you up whenever you got frustrated, and you know how hard that is for me.” Scorpia blushes,

“Aww! I know, and I appreciate everything you did for me. Oh! Maybe I could make YOU a sweater next!?” Scorpia looks to Catra with a glisten in her eyes and a bright aura radiating off her body.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Catra responds with a smirk as the doors to the labs open. “Hey Entrapta! Were here to make sure you didn’t blow…. WHAT THE FUCK!!!” Catra’s eyes widened in horror and fear seeing Sindri holding a blowtorch. Catra quickly rushed over to Sindri grabbing and separating Sindri from the blowtorch, her heart racing as she scans the room for Entrapta before spotting  Entrapta holding Ahriman and a taser.

“Oh hey Catra, why'd you yell? Is everything ok? Sindri didn't light anything on fire again did he?” Entrapta asked in a curious tone causing Catra’s eye to twitch as she shakes the blowtorch and looks from it to young Sindri.

“Ohhh, I don't know why I yelled. Maybe it’s because I found Sindri with a fucking blowtorch while you’re off fuck know’s where!” Catra bristled with rage about ready to maw the mother for being so calm watching Entrapta tilt her head in confusion before seeing realization don on her.

“Ohhhh, you thought Sindri was in danger didn't you?” Entrapta said before snorting, only causing Catra’s eye to twitch more. ”Don’t worry, Sindri is fine I’ve been running tests the past few months and he hasn't been burned, caught fire or anything like that fr..” before entrapta can continue Catra speaks up.

“ARE YOU INSANE WOMAN!!!!!” Catra yelled glaring at Entrapta, almost tempted to bash some sense into this supposed genius, but Entrapta only smiled at her words. Scorpia gasped before picking up the charred Adora doll; staring in confusion, a single tear began to form at the edge of her eye after seeing what had happened to her work, “What happened to this?”

“Here I can show you.” Entrapta said, handing the doll to Sindri before walking to the side of Catra who was looking at Sindri with a raised brow. She watched as Sindri glared at the doll intently, “Ok Sindri show ol Catra whatcha think of mean ol Adora.” With that Sindri growled, his hand and the doll slightly glowing before he threw the doll at the wall and as he did the doll burst into flames as it slammed into the wall. “See Catra? Nothing to worry about becauseeeeee” Catra looked to Entrapta, shock still on her face.

“They have magic!” The words were both exciting and terrifying to Catra. Entrapta’s sons had magic “So what can the other one do?” Catra asked cooly but still worried. Entrapta only smiled before looking to the son she held tickling him a little causing him to clap his hands. Catra could notice the sparks of electricity between his fingers, “So ...fire for Sindri...and...lighting for Ahriman.” Catra watched as Entrapta nodded smiling, the horror creeping into her, wondering if these two ever wanted to follow in their father's footsteps she doubted Adora could handle them, and even worse, she doubted they’d spare a traitor like her. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted with a sharp pain in her hand, causing her to yelp and look down and see Sindri feeding looking up at her with gentle innocent eyes.

“Don’t worry though, I’m teaching them to be safe with their magic and I don't think Sindri or Ahriman would dream of hurting their godmother.” At those final words Catra’s eyes went wide as her head whipped over to look at Entrapta, shock showing itself like it had been carved into her face. “Shocked? Yeah...I suspected as much, after all the stuff you've done and what you’ve  done to me.” Entrapta smiled even wider.

Before Catra could utter a word Scorpia walks up from behind and snatches Catra off the ground and into a tight embrace, “AWW! The twins must really love you if they aren’t trying to burn you or shock you to a crisp! Sindri must really trust you, you know, cause he’s feeding off your hand and all.” Catra desperately tried to break free from Scorpia’s grip, no luck; Catra tries to raise her arm in front of Scorpia all while struggling to speak,

“Scorpia...Sindri...still feeding...holding...too tight.” Realizing she was holding Catra a little too tight, Scorpia loosened her grip and let Catra back onto the ground,

“Sorry about that. Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” Catra’s knees buckled and landed on her knees,

“Yeah, totally. Just a little light headed…” Entrapta helped Catra up as Sindri finished feeding, now yawning in Catra’s arm

“That’s probably due to Scorpia’s tight hold as well as Sindri probably overfeeding, he’s drinking your blood for sustenance while draining your energy to replenish his magic. Did I forget to mention that?” With an annoyed and drained expression on Catra’s face, she sighs rubbing her face looking down at the little Sindri, a question nagging at her,

“Why does he feed from me anyway? I don’t have magic and I doubt I taste that good.” Catra asked, only to see Entrapta smiling,

“Well since you were one of the first people to hold Sindri and Ahriman they consider you Angela, Glimmer and Perfuma sorta like back up moms if something happens to me. It's actually quite genius when you think of it. That’s one of the reasons why I made you a godmother.”

Shortly after explaining Catra’s status to the twins Emily rushes into the room beeping frantically as she informs Entrapta of a new First One’s tech site that Entrapta’s drone scouts had discovered, “BEEP BOOP BOP BOOP BOOP!” Catra and Scorpia were both confused as to what was happening, so Entrapta gives a very short explanation

“Emily just informed me that some of my scout drones have disappeared, so I’m gonna go out to check things out. Emily! Pack the diapers, get some extra clothes, and bring me my tools! We head out…” Before she could finish Catra cuts her off,

“Hold on a second! You’re not actually thinking about taking your kids with you on one of your crazy dangerous expeditions are you!? NO! I don’t think so, not on my watch! I’ll look after the twins, besides how hard could it be?” Entrapta was baffled at this exclamation and questions Catra,

“Are you sure about that? It’s a lot harder than you think and frankly I don’t think you could handle both twins on your own.” Catra didn’t like this, but before she could say a word Entrapta continued, “Though I suppose you do raise a good point, maybe I could have Angela babysit Sindri. Oh, Ahriman can be looked after by perfuma?” Catra frowned at that

“Hey! I may not have kids of my own, but at least I’m not willing to endanger them! And if you think I can’t handle BOTH of them than at least let me look after one of them, you know, just so I can show off that it’s not as hard as you make it out to be!” Catra blurted out, her face red with embarrassment for acting like a fool, but also for Entrapta saying she couldn’t handle it. Entrapta looked deep in thought for a moment before nodding.

“Ok then, if you wanna look after one you can watch after Sindri with Angela.” Entrapta smiled and tickled Ahriman making him giggle, “I’ll tell her it’s for extra protection or incase she gets too tired from his feeding, Sindri can be a bit of a greedy feeder.” Entrapta snorted at the thought of seeing Angela tired from Sindri feeding. Catra also smiled looking down at Sindri who was trying to grab at her face but was too far away all while babbling away

“Thanks Entrapta I’ll show you I can handle this with no iss..” Catra and Entrapta looked down at Sindri as he babbled

“C-c-cat-catr-a-Catra.” both princesses’ eyes went wide at the heir’s word. Scorpia was squealing in the background and Catra could swear she saw Entrapta’s guard robot in the corner of the room shaking violently. Catra’s heart skipped a beat as a new sense of pride filled her body, eyes gleaming with joy and a slight understanding why Entrapta entrusted her with being a godmother to the twins,

“That’s right Sindri, I’m your godmother Catra.” Catra said in a soft kind tone.

[coleconnerhq]

⌠ HARRIS DICKINSON, 22, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, COLE CONNER! according to their records, they’re a FOURTH year, specializing in THREAT ELIMINATION + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (trusting blue eyes beneath tousled blonde hair, delicate and precise hands, the scent of leather and soap). when it’s the taurus’ birthday on 05/01/99, they always request their ORANGE SCONE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

                                ｃｌａｓｓｉｆｉｅｄ．

ACCESS: GRANTED FILE NAME: CONNER, C.; 22; ENGLISHMAN

Cole Conner grew up in foggy England all his life, and grew to love the gloomy days and crisp air. He had always been a sharp kid with advanced skills at a young age-- something his parents never understood where it came from. Soon enough, his IQ and academic standing put him under the radar of unique academies in the United Kingdom, who reached out to test and approve him.

This was how Cole learned about the secret world of covert spies living about in the world.

His family was in no way extraordinary or special, and so this chance to make something more of himself lit something in Cole. Once offered a spot in one of the top preparatory schools in England, he jumped at the chance, promising his family he was off to become a scholar who could provide for them, knowing that this was the thing he had been waiting for his whole life. None the wiser, his parents shipped him off to study the craft of an intelligence agent.

Cole began to excel even from the get-go at his new high school, and saw himself earning top marks. He used to always stay quiet and keep a low profile, but soon he was learning how to become more of himself-- proud, smart as a whip, and welcoming of the world around him. He made friends easier, ones who were at his level and understood him better. Strangely, Cole realized he was truly happy for the first time in his life.

Upon graduation, he took a year in between finishing school and university to spend time in the country and enjoy civilian life once more before being accepted to the Caledonia Institute for Young Men, one of the top boy’s schools in the continent. This was where he began to further develop his skills and hone in on covert operations. That was, until the famous Gallagher Academy opened it’s doors to boys.

His mentors advised Cole that he would be remiss not to apply for a spot in one of the greatest schools in history. And to his surprise, he got in. So, now, here he is-- taking in a new country, excited to make even more friends like him, and study under the sword of all Gillian Gallagher has to offer him. He’s honestly just so happy to be here, there’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for this chance.

ACCESS: DENIED FILE NAME: AGENT 27; ACTIVE STATUS

There’s more than meets the eye. Unbeknownst to Gallagher Academy, they’ve got a double agent in their midst.

Cole Conner was the name given to him at ten years old, when a man named Mr. Stewart whisked him away from the orphanage. He told him he had discovered he was a young man of great intellect and skill, and knew that he could be something even greater if he agreed to come with him, promising a safe place to sleep and warm meals every day among other children who were like him. He was sure that had to be better than the tragedy he was currently living, and so he agreed.

This was how Cole learned about the secret world of covert spies living about in the world.

Mr. Stewart came through with his promises of bed and nourishment at his school, so Cole didn’t really mind when they began putting him in more difficult and vigorous classes that tested not only his mental aptitude, but physical aptitude as well. He couldn’t lie, it felt good to continuously find himself at the top of the class, no matter how many dirty looks he got from the other kids. It felt like he had a real purpose, something Cole never knew he needed. Everything he was doing was to become a trained spy.

Once it came time for high school, he was informed he would be heading to one of the top preparatory schools in England. And, though it may very well be, it was absolute hell. The schooling was intense and strict, and the students were taught to be ruthless and perfect. Every day was harder than the last, but Cole reminded himself he was there for a reason. He was smarter and stronger than the boys and girls he’d left behind at his old school. If this high school was tough, it was because it needed to be. Everyone he graduated with would be steps ahead of the other spies in training in the country.

After graduation, Mr. Stewart told Cole he could see great plans in his future, and if he wanted, he could secure him a place at the Caledonia Institute in Oxford. He let Cole know that the institute was where he worked, and could teach him more than he could possibly understand. But if he wanted a place there, he would need to wait a full year to be vetted and approved. Though Cole didn’t entirely comprehend the task before him, he knew in his heart that he had to do it. He had to trust, because if this institute was what would make him great, than that was where he needed to be.

Once the year was up, Cole found his acceptance letter to Caledonia and began his university career at the place that would change his life forever. What this university offered him was a chance to finally become an agent alongside his final schooling years. See, while the Caledonia Institute outwardly presented itself as a regular boy’s college, and secretly operated as an elite school for young spies, it still held more secrets. The undercover spy world doesn’t know it, but this institute covertly runs itself as a real, active intelligence agency. The students there with clearance high enough-- which are few and far between-- are already employed as professional spies, and Cole is one of them. For his first two years, he underwent continued training and schooling, and his third year promised to see him in active duty. He wasn’t sure what his first real mission would be, but he knew he was ready.

Caledonia pulled him aside for his meeting and debriefed him in on the famous American spy school, The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young People. It was revered worldwide, and for the first time ever, the academy was allowing boys to enroll in their school. Cole’s mission was to apply and attend, and assume a new identity. He would gather intel as needed, and report to Caledonia on all the infrastructure, inner workings, and members of the academy. Covert operations? Taking on a new persona and accumulating high-threat intelligence? This was what he knew to do best. Cole accepted.

So, now, here he is-- seemingly fresh-eyed and naive, taking on the role of an eager and excited student, who is friendly to all and so happy to be at Gallagher Academy. But his loyalties lie elsewhere and above all else, Cole has a job to do.

TL;DR - THE FACTS

Cole is a double agent, sent here from a lesser-known English spy school that is also secretly running as an active intelligence agency

He’s presenting as a new student, fresh off the plane from England, ready to study at one of the best schools in the world

He’s very good at his job, so his persona never slips while at the academy, and no one should have any real suspicion that he isn’t who he says he is

He acts like a soft, kind, boy who is always warm, charismatic, and welcoming to those around him, and has no problem making friends

You can often find him reading and studying in the library, hanging out in the common areas, or journaling during his meals

He appears trusting and trustworthy, and is always there to help you out or be a shoulder to lean on

Generally, he just seems like a good guy

Beneath his exterior, he’s constantly analyzing and calculating

He’s got an incredible skill set already, equipped with expert combat knowledge and is advanced in all his studies, but he acts like an average Gallagher student while at the academy

Though he doesn’t entirely dislike the academy, he does see it as incredibly trivial compared to the life he’s already living. He’s sure he’s never going to get used to the place or the people

He’s not evil— he’s aware that the work he’s doing is, well, wrong. But he wants so badly to succeed and be great, that he pushes that aside. Sure the intel he’s gathering could be volatile in the wrong hands, but since he’s not immediately and directly harming anyone, he can look past it

Soon he’ll be able to leave Gallagher and have none the wiser, right?

This is what spies were meant to do, right?

PRESENT

Over the past year and a half, Cole has changed a lot

Gallagher itself has slowly grown on him, showing him true friendship and compassion from people that he hasn’t really felt since his parents died

He’s gained a ton of trust along the way from a lot of the student body, and while he’s been steadily taking down information on them all, he hasn’t sent it off Caledonia

Caledonia, and Mr. Stewart— who is essentially Cole’s adoptive father— have given him reason to doubt, and he’s scared to put the people he now cares about in danger

To this day, he’s still lying, still working as a ‘double agent’, but doesn’t feel the same loyalty to Caledonia anymore, and is trying desperately to figure out how to protect Gallagher from them

To make matters harder, he’s been joined at Gallagher by more Caledonia operatives, who he originally has been trying to sabotage, but he’s now also come to see them as friends

He’s in love with President Sutton’s daughter, Valeria, and she’s the largest reason he’s changed so much, and wants to choose to do good for her

He’s also found a deep friendship in Mary Sakamoto and Owen Musa, and feels the same need to protect them as well

Good luck to him trying to figure this mess out before it blows up in his face

hi!! this is strud, updating cole’s intro and adding a bit of what’s happened to him in the past year and a half!! once again, her is my terrible lovely complicated son, he’s come a long way. find me on discord if you need anything ( strud 💫#5099 )

[sillybitchhours]

Freak Show || kid!penny fic || Part 1/?

A young boy by the name of Penny was abandoned at a circus by his parents when he was just a toddler. Years pass and they put him in the freak show as Pennyworth the Dancing Clown. It’s Georgie’s birthday and the only thing he asked for is a trip to the circus. Bill and the losers agree to take Georgie, unaware of the new friend Georgie would find.

A young boy, skin as pale as porcelain, lay uncomfortably in a pile of hay, awoken from his restless sleep when the caravan hit a bump. He sat up, crawling on his hands and knees to peak out of a small crack in the wooden door. It was a cool autumn night, too dark to tell where they were headed. The boy sighed and hung his head as tears began to well up in his eyes. Before a sob could escape his lips he was knocked forwards, using his hands to break the fall. The boy looked up at the culprit and broke into a grin. “Simon!” He exclaimed with a giggle, reaching up to pet the two-headed goat. “Meh-eh!” Simon cried, to which the boy hushed. “Quiet, you’ll wake your brother!” He warned softly, referring to the limp head he named Billy. Simon just huffed. The boy shook his head with a soft chuckle, hugging the animal’s torso. “I’m glad I’m not alone anymore…” He murmured, nuzzling into the goat’s coarse hair. It whined and laid down in the hay. The boy rested his head on its belly, warming up from the shared body heat. The rocking of the caravan quickly put them both to sleep. Neither was awake to see the passing sign that read– “Welcome to Derry.”

“Man, fuck the circus!” A boy loudly exclaimed.

“Richie!” The other three shouted in unison.

“L-Language,” One warned, covering the youngest’s ears. “G-Georgie’s here.”

Richie huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh! So sorry, Buh- Buh- B-B-Billy boy!” Richie mocked, earning a sharp blow to the arm by the shortest boy. “Ow!”

“Can it, trashmouth.”

“Oh, you know I love it when you call me pet names, Eds!” Richie laughed, pinching Eddie’s cheeks, though they were quickly smacked away with a growl.

“Would you two get a room already?” Another added, not looking up from his birdwatching guide.

“Why? So you can join in on all the fun, Stanley?” Richie retorted, to which everyone groaned.

“You wish, Tozier.” Stan replied. The three teenagers bickered amongst themselves until the youngest boy began to shout.

“There it is! There it is! Look, Billy! There it is!” Georgie wailed, jumping up and down. In front of them was a huge banner that read, “Welcome to the Royal Big Top Circus!” It was embellished with two elephants on either side balancing on its hind legs, and a grinning clown in the center.

“Aw, screw that, they’ve got clowns.”  Richie said, turning on a heel to leave but was yanked back by the collar by Stanley.

“Oh no you don’t!” Stan said, shoving Richie forwards. “We promised Bill. You’re not backing out because of some stupid clown.”

“C-Come on, T-Tozier.” Bill stammered. “This is th-the only thing G-Georgie asked f-for his birth-birthday.” Richie gave an exaggerated moan, huffing deeply.

“Alright, alright, fine!” He gave in, raising a finger before he warned. “But I’m only doing this for Georgie. Got it?” The rest of the guys gave a nod, all except for Stan who simply shook his head. Bill smiled warmly as he watched his friend sneak up behind Georgie and scoop him up, squealing in delight. Georgie erupted into a fit of giggles as he was spun around. “Oi! What say we get some freshly popped corn kernels, eh?” Richie spoke in a thick English accent. Georgie nodded, taking Richie’s hand and dragged him the whole way there.

“Hey bucktooth!” A man called out, banging on the metal bars of the caravan. “Wake up, we’re in Derry!” The young boy sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You know, this here town used to be a beaver trappin’ camp. Maybe we oughta leave you behind so you can find your family!” The man laughed, not caring that the young boy was frowning. He threw an apple at the boy, hitting him in the head. “Get in costume, freak show starts in ten.” The boy sighed, picking up the apple from the bed of hay, examining it for any bruises. The goat anomaly jumped up, both heads crying out. With a sad smile, he offered each head a bite of the apple before eating what was left over. He gave both heads a pat, Simon first then Billy, before padding over to a big wooden crate that read “Pennyworth” in big, bold red letters. He dug through it, throwing all kinds of items left and right. Penny pulled out a mirror and took a long look at himself.

“Worthless…” He whispered with a deep frown as he began to paint on a cherry red smile.

“Come one, come all! See the weirdest show of all!” A man in a top hat and fancy moustache shouted into a megaphone. “See the famous bearded lady! A two headed goat! And watch a bucktoothed clown dance for a penny! That’s right, folks! Dances for a penny and one penny only! Step right up, folks! Welcome to the freak show!”

“The two-headed goat sounds cool,” Richie said, taking a lick of his vanilla cone.

“It’s probably fake,” Eddie replied, making a “gimme” gesture with this hand, silently asking Richie for the ice cream.

“Freak shows are cruel,” Stanley informed them, closing his birdwatching book for the first time all day. “They treat humans and animals like they’re some sort of sick joke. They starve them, beat them up - bottom line, I’m not going.”

“Aw, come on, Stan!” Richie cried. “I heard they have a chicken with no head that just runs around till it dies.”

“Jesus, Richie! Why would I want to see that!?” Before Richie could answer, they heard a familiar voice.

“I said dance, you fuckin’ freak!”

They turned their heads towards the voice, eyes going wide. It was Henry Bowers. “Welp!” Stanley clapped his hands together. “Looks like we should get going while we still have the chance!”

“W-Wait–” Bill held up a hand, watching what they were yelling at. Henry was throwing something into a cage, the rest of the boys laughing and shouting more slurs. “W-We need to stop th-them.”

“No, Bill! Just leave things be for once. It’s Georgie’s birthday, we’re supposed to be having fun!” Stan argued, gesturing over to the birthday boy, who was about ten feet away in the petting zoo. Bill sighed. “I guess you’re right.” There was a brief silence amongst the friends. It was broken when the youngest boy came running up to them.

“Billy! Billy!” Georgie exclaimed. “They have cotton candy! Can we get some!? Please?” Bill laughed, messing up his little brother’s hair lovingly. “S-Sure th-thing, Georgie. L-Let’s go.”

“Please stop! Please!” Penny pleaded with the teenagers. “You’re hurting me!”

“Not until you dance, faggot!” Henry mocked, throwing another rock at the clown, hitting him in the kneecap. Penny cried out in pain, holding onto his knee to ease the hard blow. Another boy took out a lighter with one hand, shaking a can of hairspray in the other.

“Better start soon, freak, before I burn ya to a crisp!” Patrick threatened, using the aerosol can as a makeshift flamethrower. Penny flinched in fear, backing up as far as he could from the flame. The teens kept shaking the bars and shouting at him. Penny finally began to dancing, kicking his legs out to either side, but his jig didn’t impress the boys.

“Come on boys, this freak isn’t worth it.” Henry decided, spitting in the cage.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, freak. Don’t think we’re letting you off the hook.” Patrick warned with an evil grin. “Hey, maybe we could steal your dad’s gun!”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll take it right in front of his face!” Henry laughed, high-fiving the other boys.

Penny broke down, sinking into a ball on the pile of hay. He let himself sob, his makeup melting off his face as he cried. He didn’t care if he got in trouble from the ringleader. Right now, Penny’s only fear was that of his life. He tucked his face into his knees, smearing makeup all over his costume. Suddenly a gentle voice startled him.

“Are you okay?”

“GEORGIE!” The boys continued to call out. “Wh-What the hell, R-Richie!? Y-You were supposed t-to be wa-watching him!” Bill shouted, jabbing his finger into his friend’s chest.

“Back off, Bill!” Richie shoved the boy back, throwing him off balance. “I only looked away for a second!”

“That still m-makes it your f-fault, ja-jackass!”

“He’s YOUR brother! Maybe YOU should’ve been watching him!” With that, Bill cocked an arm back to punch him, but was held back by Stan. Eddie did the same to Richie.

“Guys, guys! Pull yourselves together!” Eddie shouted as Richie shrugged him off. Bill paced to cool off. Richie was the first to break the silence.

“He was there one second and gone the next…” Richie explained, looking down as he scuffed his heel against the grass. “I handed him the cotton candy, and I went to put my change in my pocket and he was just… Fuck, I’m sorry Bill…”

“It-It’s okay, Richie.” Bill sighed, still pacing. “L-Let’s just focus o-on finding G-Georgie.” They all agreed and began to make a game plan.

Penny looked up to see a young boy, about his age, holding colorfully spun cotton candy. He sniffled, wiping his red nose on his sleeve.

“Why are you crying?” Georgie asked with sympathetic eyes.

“I- um….” Penny wasn’t ever asked questions like this before. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“What’s your name?” Georgie asked, head cocked to the side.

“Pennyworth…” The clown answered quietly, looking around cautiously.

“What a silly name!” Georgie laughed, taking a bite of his cotton candy.

Penny frowned at that, but politely continued the conversation. “What’s your name?”

“Georgie!” He spoke with a proud grin. “Why do they call you Pennyworth?”

“Because I’m only worth a penny…” He answered, flashing a sad smile. “I’m practically worthless….”

Georgie frowned. “Well, that isn’t very nice!” He paused, thinking of something better to call him. “How about Pennywise?” He exclaimed. “Because wise means smart! I learned that word from my older brother.”

Penny smiled at his new name. “I like that a lot better. Thank you, Georgie.” Pennywise smiled at the boy.

“You’re welcome!” The young boy grinned. “Why were you crying, Pennywise?” He pushed, concerned for his new friend.

“People are mean to me sometimes…” Pennywise explained with a shrug. He inched forwards, grabbing hold of the metal bars and pressed his forehead against them.

“How come?” Georgie asked innocently.

“They don’t like the way I look.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m different than them.”

“Why?”

“Because I just am!” Pennywise shouted, causing Georgie to flinch. Penny frowned. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, Pennywise!” Georgie said simply. “It’s my birthday today, so nothing can make me sad!” He explained to his new friend so he didn’t have to worry. Penny laughed at this, cheering up a little.

“Happy birthday, Georgie!” Pennywise chirped, holding up his pointer finger before scampering over to his chest. He dug around for a minute until he found what he was looking for. “What’s your favorite animal, Georgie?” The young clown asked, stretching a long red latex balloon. Georgie thought for a moment before answering.

“A monkey!” He exclaimed with a grin.

“A good choice!” Penny praised, blowing up a red balloon. The latex squeaked as he twisted and knotted the balloon with gloved hands. He blew up a yellow balloon and turned around for the finishing touches. When he decided it was perfect, Pennywise spun around. “Ta-da!” He beamed, presenting it to Georgie through the prison bars.

Georgie’s eyes lit up when his new friend presented him with a monkey holding a banana made entirely out of balloons. He took it from Penny’s hands, examining it with a gasp. “A red monkey! Red is my favorite color!”

“Mine too!” Pennywise chimed with a goofy grin. Georgie placed a hand over Penny’s gloved hand, which initially made him flinch. Once he realized he didn’t intend on hurting him, Pennywise followed in suit.

“Thank you, Pennywise. This is the best birthday gift ever!” Georgie exclaimed, hugging the balloon animal close to his chest.

“You’re welcome, Georgie.” Pennywise replied. He was confused by this fuzzy feeling in his gut. Penny opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by shouts.

“GUYS, I FOUND GEORGIE!” Eddie called from a distance, running as fast as his legs could carry him. The rest of the boys followed behind. Eddie came to a halt in front of Georgie, hunched over as he struggled for breath. He frantically dug through his fanny pack for his inhaler.

“G-Georgie! Th-Thank God.” Bill spoke breathlessly, scooping his brother into his arms. “D-Don’t you ever wa-wander off ag-gain!”

“Yeah, Georgie. Your brother almost– OH MY GOD, A CLOWN!” Richie screamed, falling on his ass. “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the–”

Eddie slapped him across the face, successfully silencing him. “Beep beep, Richie!” Had it been anyone else, Richie would’ve slapped them right back. Richie looked away shamefully, holding his tingling cheek.

“Richie, you don’t have to be afraid!” Georgie explained. “This is my new friend, Pennywi–” When the boy turned to face his friend, the curtains of the caravan were drawn shut. Georgie frowned deeply, looking down at his balloon animal. “Pennywise…”

Bill smiled sadly, reaching out for his brother’s hand. “Come on, i-it’s getting la-late.” He said, to which Georgie sighed and took his hand. “Can we come back tomorrow? Please Billy?”

“W-We’ll have t-to ask mom a-and dad, but I-I don’t s-see wh-why not.” Georgie smiled hopefully, following Billy home with the rest of his friends.

“Thank you for taking me, Billy.” Georgie said, looking up at his big brother wish a kind smile.

“Of course, G-Georgie. It is y-your birthd-day after all.” Bill chuckled and led his brother home.

All the while, Pennywise was peaking out from behind the red suede curtains. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he choked back a sob. He wished he had someone who loved him as much as Billy loved Georgie. He wished he had a family to celebrate his birthday with. Hell, he didn’t even know when his real birthday was. He only knew the day he was abandoned at the circus by his parents. Penny just hoped Georgie would be back tomorrow.

[nevermoremetaphysical-blog]

Foods of Yule!

Dec 05, 2017

   The Pagan holiday of Yule - the celebration of the Winter Solstice - typically falls on one of the days between the 20th and 23rd of December. At this time, we gather to exchange gifts, be merry, and best of all, feast!  Traditional foods include festive meats (like ham or goose), winter vegetables (like winter squash, turnips, leeks, and lettuce), and colorful preserved fruit (red apples). “Classic” or “iconic” dishes are roasted ham or goose; Yule Log Cake (most often a chocolate roll cake filled with cream or jam); fruitcake (an amusing mass of several dried or glazed fruits held with a small amount of cake); Eggnog (a favorite beverage consisting of milk, egg, and often alcohol; and Wassail (a hot spiced punch made with fruit juices and spices, or alcohol.

    With a feast being an important part of your Yuletide celebration, kitchen work is often inevitable. No matter what you’re planning on whipping up - from a sweet Yule Log to a succulent roast pork -, Yule is a great time to make some magic in the kitchen.

    If you’re finding a hard time trying to decide what to cook, here are just a few recipes that might help get the storm brewing!

Sun King Soup

3 Tbs butter (use real butter, not margarine)

1 small onion, diced

2 1/2 C. tomatoes, diced

1 C. vegetable broth

3/4 Orange juice, no pulp

A few sprigs rosemary

Paprika

Saute the onion in the butter over low heat. Chop tomatoes and add to the onions. Allow it to cook until tomatoes become soft, just a few minutes. Add broth, and allow the whole thing to simmer over low heat for 30 minutes.

Transfer the entire mixture into a blender and puree, adding the orange juice. Return to stovetop, add rosemary, and simmer for about 5 - 10 more minutes. Add paprika to taste. Serve in warm bowls with a nice loaf of soft bread, or as part of a larger feast.

Pork Roast with Rosemary and Garlic

4 lb pork roast

2 cloves garlic, chopped

Rosemary, dried

Olive oil

Preheat oven to 325F. Place the roast in a pan, then rub the meat first with olive oil and then the chopped garlic and rosemary. Pierce the pork with a knife and stick in some pieces of garlic and rosemary.

Wassail

(traditional with ceremony)

Heat a large container of ale or beer, about 3 or 4 pints. Add:

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup mixed spice (cinnamon sticks and whole cloves are also excellent)

2 or 3 small sweet apples, cut up

1 1/4 cup pineapple juice

1 1/4 cup orange juice

the juice of 2 lemons

Place over a slow flame; then, before it begins to boil, take off the heat and whip up some cream. Let this float on top of the brew like foam.

Put in a suitably large bowl (the more ornate the better)

Now go out to a tree or trees with a few friends (these don't have to be apple trees, since all can benefit from a well-intentioned blessing, but it is traditional to wassail fruit-bearing trees) Wet the roots liberally with the brew. Pass the rest around and when everyone is thoroughly warmed up, sing a wassailing song, for example:

“Here's to thee, old apple tree

Whence thou may'st bud and whence tho may'st blow

And whence thou may'st bear apples enow.

Hats full, caps full, bushel, bushel sacks full, And my pockets full too!”

Lift your glasses to the tree and shout "Huzzah!" as loud as you can.

(Nonalcoholic recipe)

8 cups apple juice or cider

2 cups cranberry juice

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp allspice

2 cinnamon sticks

1 orange

whole cloves

Turn the crockpot on high and pour in the apple and cranberry juices. Stir in the sugar and allspice, then add cinnamon sticks. Stud the orange with the cloves... about 25 or 30 cloves should do the trick.. and toss it in. Cover the pot and cook on high for 1 hour. Change the setting to low and allow to simmer for 3 more hours, then serve

http://recipesforapagansoul.weebly.com/yule-dec-21-23.html

Yule Log Cake

Ingredients:

For the Cake

6 large eggs

2/3cup (150g) sugar (caster)

8oz (225g) dark chocolate (60% cocoa or greater)

For the Filling:

1 ½ cups (355ml) double (heavy) cream

½ tsp vanilla extract

Garnish: Icing/powder sugar, chocolate sprinkles or any Christmas decorations

HOW TO MAKE IT

Preheat the oven to 220°C/ 425°F/gas 7

Lightly grease and line a 23 x 33/ 9 x 13" Swiss Roll tin. Using a small piece of kitchen paper lightly dampened with a little vegetable oil, lightly rub the surface of the paper.

Separate the egg yolks and whites. Whisk the sugar and egg yolks together in a large, roomy, baking bowl with either an electric hand whisk or a hand whisk until a light, yet thick mixture is formed.

Break the chocolate into pieces then melt with 4 tbsp water in either the microwave (take care to not overcook) or over a pan of slightly simmering, boiling water, make sure the bottom of the bowl does not touch the water.

Add the chocolate to the egg and sugar, and stir gently.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until it forms stiff, fairly firm peaks when the whisk is lifted from the bowl. Fold one tbsp of the egg white into the chocolate sponge mixture, finally, add the remaining whisked egg whites and gently fold through.

Spread the sponge mix into the prepared tin, smoothing the surface very, very gently with a spatula taking care to not knock out any air. Bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until firm to the touch and a little crisp on the top. Do not overcook or the sponge will become dry. Place the tin on a cooling rack and leave to cool.

NOW FOR THE SLIGHTLY TRICKY BIT - ROLL UP THE SPONGE CAKE

Lay a large sheet of greaseproof paper onto the work surface, quickly flip the Swiss roll tin over onto the paper and gently ease the sponge out. Peel away the paper on the sponge and tidy up any ragged edges of the cake.

Whip the cream lightly with the vanilla extract until the cream loosely holds its shape. Spread the cream evenly over the entire surface leaving a 2cm/3/4" margin on either of the two short sides.

Using a small sharp knife cut a small incision 2cm /3/4" in from one of the short edges taking care not to cut right through the cake. Carefully fold this in towards the cream, then use the paper on the work surface roll the cake away from you until a log is formed. Do not worry if cracks appear on the surface, these are part of the character of a Swiss Roll.

Serve the cake dusted with icing sugar, grated chocolate or chocolate sprinkles, holly. The Yule log can be enjoyed with a delicious cup of tea.

https://www.thespruce.com/how-to-make-the-perfect-cup-of-tea-435132

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